


Truth be Told

by Novels



Series: Reprise [10]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Idiots in Love, M/M, Meddling Michael, book-verse, some more reminiscing because that never hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-13 17:22:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20586212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Novels/pseuds/Novels
Summary: Michael has arrived at Oliver's saying he's messed up. Let's find out about what, shall we?No surprises here, this is the direct continuation ofJust Like the Sunand won't make much sense if read alone.(So go read the series; I am quite fond of it if I might say so myself!)





	Truth be Told

**Author's Note:**

> There, I haven't left you hanging for long, have I?
> 
> Enjoy!

I looked at Michael, who was practically chewing on his lower lip and was visibly worried, then at Oliver, who seemed to be unsure how to handle his son in such a state.

"I'll just go, let you two work things out," I said standing up, not wanting to intrude on something private.

Michael shook his head. "No, don't go because of me. I really don't want to ruin your evening. It's just-- well, it's about you as well. And I might be making it a bigger deal than it actually is."

I nodded slowly and sat down again, meeting Oliver's eyes. I could see he had tensed up. There was worry under his apparent calm. I wished I knew Michael well enough to understand how serious the situation was. Did he normally worry much about things? Did he have a tendency to make a big scene out of nothing? Although part of me wished it to be so, I feared he was rather the type of person who preferred not to address an issue until it was evident it was not going away on its own.

Oliver sat down next to me on the sofa and Michael curled up at his other side. 

"Alright, out with it," said Oliver. "What's happened?"

He hesitated, evidently trying to find the right words. "I think mom knows about you two," was what he settled for. "But I don't know how! I haven't told her, I swear. We were just having dinner and you know how she always keeps asking about our day and what we've done and yesterday she didn't have the time to talk much before she went back to work for her night shift, so Jesse was telling her about yesterday and he was like 'yeah, training was fine, that jerk Kyle pushed me when I got the ball, same old, same old,' and then he told her you picked me up from some pianist's house, and she asked me who that was and I told her and she went all quiet and you know mom doesn't know shit about music, it's not like she was amazed by me meeting one of the most famous pianists alive. But she repeated Elio's name like she knew him, and then stopped talking altogether. And you know it's never a good sign when she does that." He said it all so fast I wondered if he actually caught a breath in between. He paused then, as if a thought had just crossed his mind. "Dad," he asked, and it was quiet and not much more than a rhetorical question. "Did mom know about you and Elio?" 

Oliver looked torn about what to say. He still had to talk to Michael about us, really, and I could see he was trying to decide how to go about this.

"She knew from the beginning," he said in the end. It seemed obvious now, but it still managed to surprise me. She knew and she married him all the same. What had he told her to make that happen? That it had been just a fling? That it hadn't meant anything? That he had experimented a bit before committing to marriage? 

"Your mom really was my best friend back then. And when I came back from Italy I really needed someone to talk to about Elio." The small smile he gave me spoke of all the things he was not saying to his son. The pain, the heartbreak, the longing. The guilt. So she knew the truth. And still.

"But why did you two get married if she knew about him?" Oh, Michael. Asking all the hard questions with such candour.

Oliver sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Because we loved each other. We really did. It was just not the type of love that makes a marriage work, in hindsight." Well, that hurt. It hurt just like it had twenty years ago, hearing him talk about her like that. I knew, of course, that Oliver must have loved his wife one way or another. She was the mother of his sons and his companion for almost twenty years. I couldn't quite imagine him living that parallel life of his for that long just to keep up appearances. I didn't want to think that about him. So loved her he must have. But hearing him say it out loud still hurt. He had picked his love for her over his love for me, and maybe he'd chosen her because it was easier, it was what his family expected, but he'd still made that decision and I'd let him. Regrets don't go away just because you acknowledge them. But he was choosing me now. I would have to learn to cherish that and to let the past go.

"So what happens now?" Michael asked.

"I'll talk to her, I think. Even if it's so soon--" Oliver turned to look at me properly and I could understand his hesitation, the same that made me ask Michael not to tell his brother just the afternoon before. 

"Maybe just tell her that we've met after a long time and are seeing where things might go from here." It sounded very reasonable, I thought. Tell her just enough that she won't feel like she's been lied to. Don't give her any details. Don't tell her you asked me to come. Don't tell her I did. Let her think it was fate that brought us together once more. 

"I'm not sure she'll believe that, but she might just let me off the hook for now. I'll give her a call tomorrow morning." He turned to his son again. "You're staying tonight, right, Michael?"

"About that..." Michael squirmed a bit. "Mom might or might not know I'm not in my room right now. She took Jenny for a walk after dinner and I just, uh, freaked out and came here."

"Michael! You haven't told her?! She'll go crazy with worry if she finds out you've disappeared on her. You didn't think of leaving her a note?! Is your brother home alone?!" I realised at that moment that I had never seen Oliver actually angry before.

"Why are you angrier about this than about me practically telling mom you got yourself a boyfriend a month after you finalised the divorce?!" Michael replied, just as any other teenager told off for something they actually felt guilty about would.

"Because you didn't do that on purpose! She'll ground you forever, Michael. What am I saying, I'll ground you forever." Oliver snapped. "Just-- go to your room while I try to salvage this situation." I had to hide a smile behind my hand. Apparently Oliver was not particularly good at staying angry with his son. Or at coming up with impromptu punishments.

"Fine!" huffed Michael, standing up with an irritated gesture. He stopped after a few steps, turning to us. To me, really. "I _am_ sorry though. I promised you I wouldn't tell and in the end I did anyway."

"It's quite alright, Michael," I told him. "You didn't mean to. And we weren't really keeping it a secret, it's just-- new." I turned to Oliver and he nodded.

"Don't worry about it. It'll all work out in the end."

Michael smiled faintly and said goodnight, retreating to his room. Oliver let out a deep sigh and deflated a bit. I reached out and drew him closer, placing a kiss on his hair as he leaned on me.

"Why are teenagers always so difficult to deal with?" he mumbled. I gave him a little pat.

"And to think you fell in love with one once." He snorted at that.

"I will forever claim you were a middle-aged man in the body of a seventeen-year-old, Elio. Nobody who listened to you talk would have called you a teenager." He sighed again as he stood. "Right, time to have a pleasant chat with Sarah. She'll be thrilled to know Michael came all the way here on his own at night leaving his brother home alone."

I stood too, picking up the book I had abandoned earlier. "I'll just wait for you in your bedroom, alright?" I truly didn't want to listen to his side of what was bound to be a very delicate, very personal call. I gave him a soft kiss and retreated to the bedroom.

When he was done with his phone call I would be there to listen, if he needed to talk, or to hold him, if he needed to be in my arms, or simply to love him, to the best of my ability. And I would do that whether he needed it or not.

**Author's Note:**

> Beautiful people, thank you for your amazing support! You inspire me to write to the best of my ability.  
Some more will come this week, I think :) Stay tuned!


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